


The Suit

by Bookwormgal



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Birthday Presents, Coco Locos Fluff Off 2018, F/M, Family, Love, One Shot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 03:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16824298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookwormgal/pseuds/Bookwormgal
Summary: A box tied with a red bow rested innocently on the quilt. And he abruptly remembered what day it was. A day that he’d forgotten existed for the longest time until Coco brought it back to his attention.Apparently his family didn’t want to forget.“I told you not to get me anything,” he said as he cautiously picked up the box.“And I’m smart enough to know that meant get you something,” said Imelda.





	The Suit

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the "Coco Locos Fluff-Off 2018" contest.
> 
> The prompt used for this entry is “I told you not to get me anything” “And I’m smart enough to know that meant get you something.”

He should have seen it coming. But to be honest, he had numerous reasons not to think about it.

The first time the topic would have come up was only around a month after _Día de Muertos_. And Héctor was still too weak and exhausted from his close brush with the Final Death at that point. Not to mention that everything was too new then. Too raw and fragile. Even if anyone had thought about it in time for the actual day, none of them would have been in the right mindset. It was probably for the best that the day passed unnoticed.

Months went by gradually, both Héctor’s body and his relationships with his family slowly healing. His strength and energy came back as his bones began to shift from the dusty, dull yellow shade. He was being remembered. Stories and memories were being shared finally. And in the Land of the Dead, awkward interactions gave way to something more comfortable. It wasn’t perfect, but he started feeling like he belonged.

He’d wanted that for a long time.

There were so many new faces in their family. The twins had grown up since the days that they used to tease their sister about the young _músico_ following her around, but at least he remembered them. Rosita was warm and inviting, ready to do anything possible to make him feel comfortable. Victoria was a little more standoffish, but that seemed to be her personality rather than anything personal. And Julio was a sturdy and dependable force within the household, though a bit nervous about meeting the papá of his wife.

And when he started to believe that he couldn’t be any happier, that getting to stay with his family and rekindling his relationship with Imelda was the best possible outcome… Coco arrived.

It took all of Héctor’s willpower to finally end that first hug. He would have held onto his little girl forever if he could.

The months after that were filled with welcoming her to the Land of the Dead, getting her settled, reacquainting Coco with her family, and everyone reminiscing about the past. He heard so many stories about her growing up and her life. Hearing about them made him both proud and a little sad to have missed out on so much. But overall, Héctor felt perfectly content to bask in the warmth and love. He finally had everything that he wanted. He couldn’t even imagine thinking about anything else.

But the day after the next _Día de Muertos_ , the first that he could properly participate in after a nerve-wracking moment at the scanners, Coco asked him a question. One that caught the attention of the entire family and startled Héctor out of the blissful state that he’d been in since crossing the bridge and glimpsing their living family.

What would he like for his birthday?

Part of the reason the question hit so hard was because he hadn’t realized that his birthday was even close. He’d honestly forgotten when it was. He hadn’t thought about his birthday in decades. There was no point in counting the years like that when the only date he really cared about was _Día de Muertos_. His birthday hadn’t crossed his mind in ages. And then Coco asked that question out of nowhere.

But after his stunned silence lasted a little too long and the entire family stared at him expectantly for a response, Héctor managed to give them a casual grin and say that he didn’t need anything.

After all, he was with his family again. He got to see his daughter after so long and his wife no longer hated him. What more could he possibly want?

From there, Héctor assumed the topic was over. Everything seemed to go back to normal. The new normal filled with family, music, and shoes. Not that Héctor could actually make shoes, his first attempt causing Imelda to laugh until tears streamed down her face and thus making the entire effort worth it. But even if he didn’t have any talent for the task, he tended to linger in the workshop with the others.

It was nice. Being part of the family again.

Rosita would cook and bake delicious meals and treats. Victoria would loan him books and listen patiently to whatever thought crossed his mind. Oscar and Felipe would show off their creative and chaotic inventions. He got to spend time with Coco while also getting to see her and Julio together, his little girl in love and happy. And he got to watch Imelda in the workshop, smiling and creating something amazing every single day. This new form of normal almost seemed like a dream at times.

But if it was a dream, it was one that he never woke up from.

He didn’t see it coming because, even after Coco’s question, Héctor didn’t expect or really think that he deserved anything more than what he already had.

They treated the day rather casually, not trying to smother him in attention or make a huge fuss over it. He was thankful for that much in hindsight. But it also meant that he didn’t suspect a thing even when Rosita prepared a nicer-than-normal dinner. Only afterwards, when Imelda gave him a mysterious smile over her shoulder, did curiosity start prowling at the back of his skull.

Her fingers interlaced with his, Héctor allowed her to guide him towards her bedroom.

 _Their_ bedroom.

They’d only been sharing a bed again for about two months, but Héctor didn’t mind taking things slow. He didn’t mind the gradual pace as they rebuilt their marriage. Héctor would never take her for granted. He would treasure every moment with Imelda. He’d spent too long without her.

“We didn’t want to embarrass or overwhelm you by giving you this in front of everyone,” said Imelda, pulling him towards the bed, “but the whole family worked on it.”

Before he could ask what she was talking about, Héctor’s eyes drifted down. A box tied with a red bow rested innocently on the quilt. And he abruptly remembered what day it was. A day that he’d forgotten existed for the longest time until Coco brought it back to his attention.

Apparently his family didn’t want to forget.

“I told you not to get me anything,” he said as he cautiously picked up the box.

“And I’m smart enough to know that meant get you something,” said Imelda.

Héctor chuckled slightly before sitting on the edge of the bed, placing the gift on his lap. He should have known better. His daughter certainly wouldn’t have dropped the idea, which meant that Imelda wouldn’t either. Hesitating a moment, he slowly untied the bow. The ribbon fluttered to the ground as he carefully lifted the lid. But when he looked inside, Héctor felt like all the air was knocked out of his chest.

Fabric. Familiar fabric. Even the soft rose shade was familiar.

The first memory it conjured hurt: tequila, a poisonous toast, a distant train, and pain. But others followed. Earlier memories. Performing in the plaza, supporting his family with his skills and making people happy. Playing for Coco in her bedroom, always finding the time and energy no matter how long the day might have been. Even the day that Imelda presented him with the completed outfit, claiming that a proper mariachi should look the part.

Just like she was giving him an identical one now.

“A charro suit?” he asked quietly.

As he pulled out the articles of clothing from the box, noticing that she tucked the silk tie under the bolero jacket, Imelda said, “We thought you might like something to wear. Now that you’re playing again, I mean.”

She sat down beside him as he looked at the outfit. The soft rose shade seemed identical to the suit that he lost decades ago. The fabric even felt the same under his fingers, as if he could close his eyes and return to those distant days. But as he looked closely at the carefully-stitched metallic thread that ran along the sides of the pants and the elaborate embroidery across the bolero jacket, he realized it wasn’t perfectly identical. The gold detailing was similar, but Héctor could spot the differences.

“Rosita and Julio cut the fabric,” continued Imelda. “Oscar and Felipe did the main stitching for the jacket and pants, putting them together. Victoria is responsible for the silk tie. Coco helped me with the embroidery. We thought you might like this better than something bought from someone else.”

“It’s beautiful,” he said quietly. “It looks like the one that you made for me. The one you worked on while pregnant with Coco.”

“You remember?’

He smiled, rubbing his thumb across the gold detailing on the bolero jacket. He knew that pattern. He recognized it. Most of it seemed to be based on his facial markings, though adapted for a fabric canvas. But here and there… Héctor spotted details that resembled the yellow facial marks along Imelda’s cheekbone.

A decision by Coco or Imelda? Either way, it warmed something deep in his bones.

Looking up at her, Héctor said, “Of course I remember. How could I forget? You made it for me. You said you made it because you loved me.”

“And this one was made by your family.” Imelda reached out, cupping his face gently with her hand. “Because we love you and want you to be happy.”

“I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time, _mi amor_.” He leaned against her hand, treasuring her touch. “ _Gracias_.”

“ _Feliz cumpleaños_ , Héctor,” she whispered, her hand slipping to the back of his head and carefully pulling him closer.

The kiss felt gentle, warm, and tender. He practically melted against her, his arms wrapping around Imelda’s body and hugging her against his chest. Héctor couldn’t ignore how much he needed to hold her close, though the box in his lap limited things slightly. It may have been a century since she first agreed to be his wife, but every kiss still felt like the first one. And he loved her just as much as he did at the start.

A lot could change over the course of a year. A year of joy, healing, and love. And maybe it was worth celebrating the passage of time again. Maybe it was time to start paying attention to his birthdays.

Because that moment? A gift made by a family who loved and wanted him resting on his lap? Imelda kissing him like she never wanted to stop?

It was perfect.


End file.
